


We are chosen

by Sophie4628



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Utopia, Depends how you put it I guess, F/M, Or dystopia, Social Experiments, Social Justice, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29272863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie4628/pseuds/Sophie4628
Summary: "Generations ago", Carla was told by her history teacher once, "the gap between the rich and the poor became so big that bloody civil wars began to emerge all around the globe. The suppressed finally began to revolt against the power of the rich and privileged; and while monetary redistribution through different tax-laws managed to calm the masses on short-term, there needed to be another solution found on long-term. And to bridge the mile-deep gulfs of hatred and enmity, politicians decided to use the most-deadly weapon, the one that brought even the fiercest fighter to fall: love."
Relationships: Carla Rosón Caleruega/Samuel García Domínguez, Carmuel - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18





	1. Three

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I know I'm a little slow at the moment but I'm fighting a massive writer's block meaning I hate everything that I write and its so exhausting sigh... But now I was finally able to write something I don't hate and that is a second part of the Soulmate AU I posted in my prompt collection. I decided to give it an own work since it'll have three chapters in total and I don't want things to become chaotic in the other work. The first chapter is what I already posted in "I'll be the one", so if you already read that, you could theoretically skip to chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on the idea of people having timers on their body that count down to the moment they meet their soulmates. Have fun reading! :)

If there’s anything Carla’s parents were eager to teach her from childhood on, it’s the language of ignorance. For a long time, she didn’t understand why. What advantage does being ignorant bring you other than coming off as arrogant and stupid? Not caring about other people or injustices in society, only ever interested in the own fortune?

As she got older, she found the answer: it is peace. Because without ignorance, the exaggerating abundance they live in could never be justified in comparison to the lifestyle of normal, or worse, poor people. They simply have to be ignorant for the sake of being able to sleep at night, for the sake of not being haunted by the fact that people are perishing because of problems they could solve with a tenth of their monthly salary.

And there are more people like them. Hundreds. Thousands, even. But the number decreases more and more, and that is thanks to a genetic program governments all around the world agreed on many years ago: timers. They changed the human hereditary, resulting in every person being born from then on having a timer appear on their wrist after their sixth birthday. Twelve white and slightly glooming digits, imprinted in the soft flesh of the inner arm: Years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds. Carla looks down onto her wrist: 00:00:01:06:45:13.

The concept is promoted under the smokescreen of love. It enables you to find your soulmate, it is said. And that makes life easier and more peaceful, descends the divorce-rate, decreases fights and domestic violence and so on. But of course, making people happy isn’t the only – or the true – intention of the timer-program. Because who your soulmate is follows an algorithm that’s installed with no smaller intention than to mix society.

"Generations ago", Carla was told by her history teacher once, "the gap between the rich and the poor became so big that bloody civil wars began to emerge all around the globe. The suppressed began to finally revolt against the power of the rich and privileged, and while monetary redistribution through different tax-laws managed to calm the masses on short-term, there needed to be another solution found on long-term. And to bridge the mile-deep gulfs of hatred and enmity, politicians decided to use the most-deadly weapon, the one that brought even the fiercest fighter to fall: love."

Since then, life has changed. Dozens of people fall in love with each other across social classes, income-groups and educational background. It simply doesn’t matter anymore. All that counts is your timer – literally – and the moment all digits land on zero. When you meet him or her, its like getting struck by a lightning, only that the electricity roaming your body makes you feel nothing but pure bliss. That’s what she heard a woman say next to her in a restaurant once, at least. But she heard of other cases where people felt nothing at all, or the shock was so intense it actually hurt. It seems to be an individual experience – and Carla really, really hopes she’ll be able to make it herself someday.

But not everyone views the timers as something positive and enriching. Some see it as a threat to their status and privileges, and therefore deny the concept with full force. Her parents, for example.

“This isn’t love, Carla,” her father once explained. “Its manipulation. The timer sets a huge number of lucky hormones free the moment it runs out. You don’t fall in love, sweetheart. You’re only tricked into thinking it.”

And for very long, she believed him. Believed that the numbers on her wrist were nothing but a lie, counting down to a random moment on a random day, making her fall in love with a random person. But soon enough, she found out there were things contradicting the conspiracy theory. “But wouldn’t the chances be higher that I met a person of my own class when it runs out randomly? After all, they’re the people I’m most around” or “Why does no one fall in love with family members, then?” or “How can it be random when it runs out in the exact second two people meet? Wouldn’t that be a big coincidence?”

“Stop it!” was the only answer she ever received to her many questions. “Can’t you see how much it messes up your brain?! Its nonsense, and you’re talking nonsense, too! I don’t want to hear another word about it!”

That’s when she knew her questions weren’t unreasonable at all. And together with her best friend, she finally cracked the code at thirteen years old: “I think they don’t want us to be with someone froam a different class, Marina,” she’d explained as they laid on her bed. They turned a page in the teen-magazine they’d secretly bought.

“I met my soulmate, am I pregnant now?” reads a question, directed to the editors of the magazine. The girls giggle, but nonetheless read the answer: “No, simply meeting your soulmate on the street won’t impregnate you – to achieve that you still have to practice unprotected sexual intercourse…”

Marina interrupts Carla’s silent reading. “But what’s so wrong about loving someone from a different class? I don’t get it.”

“I guess they’re scared or something.” The blonde shrugs and focuses on the magazine again. “I have a boyfriend whom I love very much, but my timer runs out in a week. Can I avoid meeting my soulmate?” – That’s a fair question.

“Scared of what?” the girl besides her asked with a frown.

“If I only knew.” Carla rolled onto her back and sighed. She pushed the sleeve of her shirt aside and squinted at the numbers: 03:04:22:06:12:35. More than three years still.

No one really knows how the timers work, though, how they find matching pairs and calculate the moment the soulmates meet. Its said that it is some self-learning algorithm, connecting every information in a big database to find the perfect match. It makes sense, considering the timers appear around the age of six and until then, there’s already a fair amount of information collected about a human. Still, like everything human-made, the system has glitches. Sometimes, the timers don’t work, are unreliable or create ridiculous matches. Three people are no rarity at that, but sometimes there are meetings of six or seven people whose timers run out – making whole groups fall in love. The highest number was a group of thirteen in Finland – they roamed several talk shows after that, speaking about their new – and allegedly happy – life in some kind of hippie municipality.

And Carla has some issues with her timer, too. Sometimes the digits change back and forth or get stuck. Its annoying and kind of unnerving when the timer only counts five days left and then increases to three months again over night. It has been like that for the last couple of weeks, and by now, not even Carla is positive that the whole timer-system works properly. Its frustrating, to say at least.

The day that’s been originally calculated for her was about two months after her sixteenth birthday. Now she’s already seventeen and it’s still counting. But she seems to be getting somewhere. 00:00:01:02:09:22. A little more than one day to go. She hasn’t been this close since last month. Maybe it’ll finally count down to zero this time.

She’s more than nervous when she finds herself sitting at dinner with her parents the next day. She has exactly two hours and ten minutes left. That’s the closest she ever got. Tonight is her night – she can feel it.

“I’m going out with Lu tonight,” she states and takes her first bite of pasta. “There’s a party at Barcélo.”

“Mhm,” her mother nods brusquely. “What does your timer say?”

“Eight days and five hours.”

“Really? Wasn’t it less yesterday?” She feels the piercing stares of her parents on her as she pushes the pasta around on her plate. She hasn’t even told them the counter status yesterday. They must’ve caught a glimpse or controlled it while she slept.

“I told you it goes crazy lately. It increased again over night.”

She hears her father’s chair scrape over the wooden parquet, then sees him walking up to her from the corner of her eyes.

“Hand,” he commands, holding out his own.

Carla should probably react less suspicious, yet she can’t help but immediately draw her hands away and onto her lap. “No.”

“Hand,” he repeats, tone much stricter now. She fumbles around with her fingers while staring at her plate in concentration. Ignorance, no? That’s what they taught –

She jumps as her arm is yanked upwards forcefully. She doesn’t protest, though. It has no sense. He fumbles around with her watch until he finally has it open, then removes it to take a look at the timer. He looks at her mother. “Two hours and five minutes.” Then, she feels his eyes burning into her head again. “You’re staying in tonight.”

“Why are you so afraid of that countdown, mh?!” Carla rips her arm from his grip. “If its nothing but nonsense? What are you afraid of?! That I fall in love with someone who isn’t as rich and ignorant as you?!” Her chest burns with rage, eyes fiery. “Just leave me the fuck alone!”

They do what she asked them to – but that doesn’t mean she can go out with Lu and watch out for her soulmate, that means she’s sent to her room with zero chances of leaving the house tonight. And she’ll never meet him. Or her – in the end she has no clue if her soulmate is male or female. Taking a look onto her timer with fifty-five minutes left, she concludes that she’ll probably never know. She buries her face into her pillow. Fuck!

Despite the anger squirming in her stomach, she begins to feel hungry a few minutes later. She only had one bite of pasta after all. She decides that treating herself with some fast food is an appropriate reaction to losing the chance of meeting her soulmate, so she orders nothing less than a big pizza with double cheese. Forty-two minutes until the delivery, her app says. She groans, admittedly a little overdramatic, and falls back onto her mattress. And then a thought hits her.

She looks onto her wrist with wide eyes – Forty-one minutes – and frantically unlocks her phone and opens the delivery-app again.

Forty-one minutes.

She stares at the screen, then back onto the white digits. Three…two…one…Forty minutes. Her eyes flicker back to her phone. Forty minutes.

“Oh my god…” she mutters and touches her forehead. A relieved, hysteric laugh escapes her. “Oh shit.”

The pizza deliverer? Well, her parents will certainly not like to hear that.

\--

Samuel feels his heart sink more and more the closer he gets to his destination. The neighborhood looks ridiculously rich, and his timer shows exact seven minutes left. If his soulmate actually lives in one of these houses, his chances of actually falling in love with her or him will sink rapidly. He knows how the rich think of the system, especially the one’s that are this rich. Exorbitantly, even.

His mother always told him she hopes for his soulmate to belong to the middle class – even decades after the system was installed, its still the rarest species – because while someone of them wouldn’t mean the biggest monetary fortune, it’s much more realistic to establish a serious relationship with them than with people at the very end of salary levels.

If he weren’t out of breath because of riding his bike, a disappointed sigh would leave his mouth right now. He’s always been a dreamer, mostly because his fantasy had more to offer than the life he grew up in, but he’s not that much of a dreamer to still keep his hopes high. There are only two things that’d maybe fetch him a spark of chance: his soulmate being a) very kind-hearted or b) rebellious enough to break through the gold-plated upper-class structures. Or, that would be the third possibility, a mixture of both.

He’s literally panting when he conquers the last meters of his route – a long driveway, leading up a small hill – and when an impressive mansion appears and a glance to his timer tells him he’s got two minutes left, his mouth goes dry and his heart begins to hammer against his ribcage. His whole life he’d waited for this moment, ever since he was six and his mother explained to him what the weird numbers on his wrist meant. He remembers being absolutely fascinated by the idea of having an actual soulmate out there, a person meant for him one and only. He also remembers the disappointment he felt when he finally found out that the soulmate program was computer-based, robbing all of its magic. But it still seemed to work in most cases, and all the examples of happy couples meeting through the program gave him new hope.

Hope that’s being mercilessly crushed as he waits for someone to open the door that’s more like a gate to another world to him, hope that's crushed as he stands there feeling small and insignificant with a freaking pizza-carton in hand, its bottom already soggy with fat. It didn’t escape him that the order he’s delivering right now contains double-cheese, and it somehow leads him to wonder how his soulmate may look like. He pushes the thought away decisively – he was always taught to not have any expectations about looks or such. Coming to his conclusion from before, the looks don’t matter anyway, no? This isn’t going to work, not in this neighborhood. He’s almost hundred percent sure.

The pizza carton nearly slips from his hand when his wrist suddenly begins to vibrate: 00:00:00:00:00:10. Ten seconds left.

His throat closes up with nervousness – no, anxiety – and he feels like throwing up for a second, the weird vibration only making his guts twist even more. Seven…six…oh god. His hands are already covered in cold sweat, and if it weren’t for his intention to look halfway acceptable when meeting his soulmate, he would steady himself on the door or even sit down. Three…two…shit, he can’t do thi–

And then the door opens.

People weren’t lying when they spoke of an electric shock Kthe methe moment your timer runs out. Samuel jumps at the tingling sensation, every muscle in his body contracting for a millisecond, and when they loosen up again, the inevitable happens.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says while bending down to pick the carton back up. “Its just the- the timer. It…ran out. Did you feel something, too?” He gestures to his now empty wrist and simultaneously wipes some nonexistent dirt off the pizza carton. At least it remained whole.

The girl musters him with raised brows. Does she look…disappointed? Because he surely isn’t, she’s beautiful. Angelic, even. Blonde hair, delicate features, figure slim but curvy in all the right places. Everything he could wish for – at least when you only go for the looks. He suddenly feels everything but comfortable in his sweater and the stupid cap his delivery service makes him wear. At least she can’t see his hair going crazy underneath.

Samuel clears his throat after a few seconds of silence, shifting from one foot to the other. “Sorry to bother you, I –“

“You meet your soulmate,” she cuts him off suddenly. Her voice, oh god. Every sultry syllable leaving her lips has an immediate shiver running down his spine. “And the first thing you say is shit?” A hint of amusement plays around the corners of her lips. “How very bold from you.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, ears going pink. “Shit, sorry–, I– I mean–“ She chuckles, hand raising up to cover her smirk. Is she laughing at him? He breathes deeply to gather himself. Get your shit together, he thinks. Literally.

“All our lives we’re prepared to meet our soulmate someday, but no one ever told us what actually happens when we do. That’s kind of dumb, or?” He shrugs with a careful smile.

“You were prepared?” she asks with genuine interest. Then her eyes begin to glisten. “Certainly doesn’t look like it…”

Is she…roasting him? Is the whole thing only a game to her? Because to him, it isn’t. This is serious, dead serious. They’re soulmates, for fuck’s sake. Meeting your soulmate shouldn’t be a damn comedy show, should it? He doesn’t really know what to say, mind blank of any witty comeback. But she seems to have mercy with him. Finally.

“How about telling me your name?”

“Samuel,” he smiles shyly. “And yours?”

“Carla.” She holds out her hand for him. He takes it, very aware of the sweat layer on the inside of his own, but she doesn’t seem to care, even refuses to let go of it for a good ten seconds. The feel of her skin is exciting and comforting at the same time – the exact way Samuel always imagined it to feel when he first touched his soulmate (he still can’t believe he finally met her). But then he hears some noise inside the house and Carla yanks her hand away abruptly. Her expression changes into looking fairly stressed and she quickly takes the pizza carton out of his hand.

“Thank you,” she nods and holds out the money. Samuel takes the bill and before he knows it, the door in front of him closes again. He fucked up, didn’t he?

No, he didn’t. Because when he unfolds the thin paper to put it into his wallet, he finds nine digits neatly written upon it.

\--

The pizza isn’t even half eaten when Carla’s stomach begins to rebel. So much to having double cheese as a treat. But the exaggerating amount of fat isn’t the only thing making her stomach close up. A soft smile spreads on her lips as she thinks about him again. And then she can’t hold it in any longer.

“I met him!” Carla whisper-squeals into her phone while walking up and down in her room. “I finally met him, Marina! I’m so happy right now.”

“Are you on drugs?” the other girl asks in a humorous tone. “Who did you meet?”

That its weird to even think it makes forming the words on her tongue considerably harder. “My soulmate, Marina! My timer ran out tonight.”

Carla hears a gasp on the other end of the phone, then: “Oh my god, really? Congratulations to you! Where did you meet? Aren’t you in the club right now?”

She’s quick to tell the red-haired girl all about the dramatic dinner with her parents and her subsequent pizza-order, then engulfs a little more in describing the scenery at her front door, including him. Marina giggles when Carla detailly explains how nervous Samuel was, how he let her pizza fall down and clumsily introduced himself. She doesn’t go into too much detail about her own nervousness though, the one that had been definitely there but was carefully hidden beneath her cool exterior all along. Only when their hands touched, the blonde felt her façade crumble as a teethy grin crept onto her face, enough for her to feel like a fool and enough for Samuel to return it.

Marina seems to be genuinely happy for her, which is kind of relieving. The whole meeting-your-soulmate-thing can feel like a competition sometimes, even when the timers aren’t influenceable in any form. Suddenly, Carla is glad she didn’t meet her soulmate while being in the club with Lu, because she’s practically the queen of making competitions out of everything, and having her best friend meet their soulmate while her own timer still has six years to go surely wouldn’t improve her mood. She’ll tell her sometime, but not today.

“And how will things go on now? Are you in love already? Did the timer manipulate you?”

“Of course it didn’t.” Carla rolls her eyes at the thought of what her parents always told her. “It didn’t feel any different from meeting other persons for the first time. There was like…a short electric shock when the timer ran out, but I didn’t feel like I got hit by cupid’s arrow or something. He was sympathetic and cute and…okay I’m probably a little biased but…I just want to meet him again as soon as possible, you know? I want to get to know him, want to know how the person that’s destined to be my soulmate is like.”

She can almost feel the stupid grin Marina must have on her face right now. “So that’s your plan? Meeting him again? Like, secretly?”

“Well, I won’t straight up marry him.” Carla stares out her window. “And telling my parents…,” she sighs, “I mean you know how they are. This…won’t be easy.”

It isn’t long after their call that Carla’s phone vibrates next to her. She picks it up hastily, already longing for the first message from him. She hopes he even found her number, because if he didn’t…Well she knows that the whole soulmate program is intended to connect people who wouldn’t have met otherwise, but she still hopes that he isn’t… completely stupid, to say it the evil way. He apparently isn’t. The proof is right before her eyes.

Hey Carla, this is Samuel. Hope your pizza was still eatable after its little crash…sorry again.

Oh, and I really hope this is your number.

If you’re not Carla please ignore this...

She rolls onto her stomach and giggles, types “Can you stop being awkward for like 5 seconds?”, deletes it and decides for a nicer approach.

Hi Samuel. Don’t worry, it was fine. Though I didn’t even make it halfway, the cheese…

He’s quick to reply: I would’ve bet that you won’t make it. At least you’ll have breakfast for tomorrow then.

Careful there, don’t underestimate me ;) Pizza for breakfast??

I wouldn’t dare to. Ehm…it’s the best thing ever?

Never tried it to be honest

Omg Carla you haven’t lived!! Can’t believe we’re soulmates

That was the no. 1 requirement for your soulmate? Junk food consume at ungodly hours?

No, actually that was the second

? What was the first then?

I’ll tell you when we meet again

Carla purses her lips at his last reply. He’s way smoother at texting than in person. She likes it. They agree on meeting right on the next day, which makes it considerably harder for Carla to go to sleep later that night. It’s around one in the morning when her breathing finally begins to even out and her features shift from a happy little smile to being completely relaxed. It’s the first time she falls asleep without the whiteish shimmer on her wrist faintly lighting up her face.

\--

“Now tell me,” Carla glances up from her menu, “what is it?”

“What is what?” Samuel closes the thin leather folder and lays it onto the table with that – what she already learned – shy signature smile of his.

“The no. 1 requirement for your soulmate. You said you’d tell me.”

“Oh that…” He scratches his neck and looks around as if the answer would be flying around in the restaurant they’re sitting in.

Carla squints her eyes. “You lied to me, didn’t you? I knew it.”

His nervous smile loosens up when Carla begins to show some amusement. “I just needed a reason to meet you again I guess.”

“Us being soulmates isn’t enough or what?” she grabs a piece of the bread the waiter brought them and smears some herb butter upon it, takes a bite, registers the amount of garlic and internally groans. If this is supposed to end the way she’d like it to, this isn’t beneficial.

“I don’t know…,” he grabs some bread as well. Good. “I heard people like you don’t think too much of the whole concept.”

“People like me?”

“People with money,” he corrects, staring right back at her. “I mean I’m not dumb, I know the program gets more disadvantageous the richer you are. I probably wouldn’t like it too if I was in your position. To be honest I thought I hadn’t the slightest chance when I came into your neighborhood.”

Without thinking, Carla reaches for his hand on top of the table. Samuel twitches, but doesn’t pull away. It feels too good to do so. “This isn’t about money, Samuel.”

“Everything always is.”

“No,” she says energetic, fingers crawling up to his now empty wrist. “This is about us. About two young people that are…destined for each other, even if only by an algorithm. But that thing must be a fucking genius, because even with all the glitches it has, not once have I heard that two soulmates didn’t fall in love after meeting. And love beats money. Every time.”

There are goosebumps arising on the soft skin of his arm, and Carla can’t help but smile. She always liked seeing the impact she has on people, and his reaction – whether caused by her touch or words – certainly does things to her.

“Thank you,” Samuel says after they spent three hours eating and drinking and talking non-stop.

“For what?” Carla grins, his hoodie thrown over her shoulders to spend her some warmth in the cool spring air that’s enveloping Madrid’s streets. “The bill? Because if you’re bringing up the money thing again then – ”

“Then what, hm?” Samuel comes to stand in front of her with a challenging look. Liquor courage apparently, even if he only had two beers.

“Then I’d…” she thinks for a moment. In opposite to him, the alcohol makes her less witty than before, “…tell you to stop bringing it up.”

“Wow, what a comeback.” He laughs and starts walking again. She joins the unhurried steps and pushes at his shoulder. It’s astonishing just how easy it is for Carla to feel comfortable around him.

“Don’t be so cheeky, Mister.”

He only gives her an amused hum in response, and they walk a few meters in silence until they reach the taxi stand. They come to halt on the sidewalk, positioning themselves near a house wall to not hinder the other pedestrians still roaming the street.

“Thank you for the nice evening,” Samuel completes his sentence from before. They’re interrupted by a car honking in the distance but quickly find each other’s eyes again. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much withing three hours of time.”

Carla smiles in response. Making people laugh hasn’t been her specialty until now, but with Samuel everything seems to be easy. Her hand finds his and she lightly tugs to make him turn his wrist up.

“What?” he asks as she inspects his skin, pure and lacking any marking now. Her thumb swipes across where numbers were counting down to zero a bit more than twenty-four hours ago, and suddenly she places her other hand on his cheek and plants a soft kiss onto his lips.

Before Samuel realizes it and is able to fully engulf in the soft touch, she moves away again. He opens his eyes, in awe of her beauty and her as a person in general, and when she smiles back just the same way he sees no other option as to grab her by the hips and kiss her again. This time, he’s very aware of the touch, and he’s also spinning out of control a little when she opens her mouth willingly and slides her tongue across his in similar eagerness. If it weren’t for the public space, Carla is sure, things would’ve gotten even more heated. She would’ve been in for it at least (even if tonight being their first date, yes. But he’s her soulmate, and if that isn’t an excuse to have sex, what else is?).

“Carla…,” Samuel squeezes her hips gently, all out of breath.

She looks at him with big eyes and bites her lower lip – she’s turned on okay? At least she doesn’t try to deny it. Samuel gulps and mutters something under his breath what sounds suspiciously similar to we shouldn’t do this here.

“Yeah.” She takes a step back and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re probably right. I should…,” she points to the taxis behind her. They hug tightly, stealing a last kiss before Carla turns to make her way across the sidewalk.

“Carla. Hey.” Samuel suddenly stops her, hand catching hers before it can slip away. A big smile flashes across her face when he drags her back into his arms. She goes easily, steps big and kind of goofy, and lets him kiss her again. Her hand is still on his cheek when they part, and before she can turn away for the second time, Samuel grabs hold of her wrist and kisses its inside, pressing his warm lips to her skin sensual and slow. Her heart is literally melting when he does it, still touched by the fact she’d been blessed with him. She isn’t sure she’ll ever get over it.

\--

“And how’s it going with your little soulmate?” Nano asks, handing Samuel a beer in their kitchen. “It’s been about half a year now, hm? Are you still all lovey-dovey and such?”

Samuel takes a sip, then nods. Even though they live together, he and his brother don’t see each other all too often. And girl- or more accurately soulmate-talk isn’t what they do often, either. “She’s got some trouble at home. Her parents seemingly can’t accept the fact her soulmate’s just a pizza guy.”

“Fucking rich people.” Nano shakes his head. “Well, as long as she stands by your side…She does, or?”

“Of course.” Samuel stares into nothing a few seconds, then switches out of his trance. “She’s great, you know? She just won’t give up, she fights them for months now, and I told to just let it be more than once, but she simply refuses to. Always tells me that I’ll be sitting at their dinner table one day just to piss them off.”

“Ah, I see. Your princess is a troublemaker, huh?”

“With those parents everyone would be a troublemaker.” Samuel sighs. “But she’s going to move out when she’s eighteen anyway, so hopefully it'll get easier then.”

"It will." Nano pats his shoulder. “I mean she’s been with you for six months already. Longer than all your other relationships – oh I forgot, there were none.”

“Fuck off,” Samuel laughs and pretends to spill some beer over his brother. “You’re only jealous.”

The older one snorts. “In your dreams. And even if, tomorrow at this time I’d have no reason to be anymore.” He holds his arm up. 00:00:00:16:43:02. “If she’s half as rich as yours and means twice the trouble I’ve got nothing to complain about.”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you won't get confused with the timeline: the first chapter ended six months after Carla and Samuel met, and this one is set about one month later, meaning seven months after they met. But since I wanted to include some things that happened until then, the major part of this chapter is a retrospective.

It didn’t take too long until Carla revealed the secret to her parents. Partly because she couldn’t wait to see their faces when she told them that their ban caused her to _meet_ her soulmate instead of preventing it, and partly because they straightaway brought the topic up. Or more specifically her mother did, but given the fact her father’s been sitting in the armchair across from Beatriz, Carla knew that they’d planned this together.

Kind of sad, isn’t it? That in her family, addressing sensible topics – or _any_ topics that don’t concern everyday small talk – need to be _planned._ It needs to fit into their work schedule. Would be a shame if such things as personal conversations ruined a productive day of working, right?

Going back to that night, it’s safe to say that her mother’s question about her wellbeing caught Carla off-guard. She only came downstairs to grab a bottle of water quickly, but when her mother asked if everything was alright and both of her parents looked at her in expectation, she knew she had no other choice than to sit down and talk to them. She just hoped it went over quickly. Her need for conversation with them had decreased significantly since she had someone who willingly listened to her at all times, and, to make it even better, truly seemed interested. A great feeling.

So, Carla sat down next to her mother, careful to not make herself too comfortable on the couch and in hope that her straight posture was enough of a signal to tell them she wanted to head off to her room again as soon as possible.

But her mother seemed to be in a talkative mood. She closed her book and gave her daughter a warm smile. “How are you, darling? We haven’t really talked all week. Is everything alright? How did your math exam go?”

Three. They hadn’t really talked in _three_ weeks.

“I’m fine. The exam went good, I think.”

Carla chose not to point out that the exam had also been three weeks ago. It wouldn’t change a thing, anyway.

Her mother nodded, then her gaze dropped to Carla’s wrist. She studied the bare skin for a moment, letting out the smallest of sighs. “Carla, we know that this wasn’t easy for you, but it was for the better. And we haven’t told you yet, but we’re really grateful you trusted us in that situation. It may feel false and unfair now, but one day, you’ll thank us.”

Carla felt a swell of anger tighten her jaw. What did they dare to talk about _trust_ to her? It wasn’t like she had much of a choice back then. What did they expect her to do? Build a rope out of her bedsheets and rappel down the house wall? They _forced_ her to stay in. It had nothing to do with trust.

“Actually, I am thankful that you grounded me,” she spoke. The anger had already turned into a sweet feel of provocation. Now or never. “Because if you hadn’t, I would’ve never met my soulmate.”

The way both of her parents looked at her was absolute gold. Carla would’ve loved to frame their shocked expressions. Unfortunately, she didn’t have her phone with her. And the moment didn’t last too long, anyway.

“What do you mean with that?” her father asked gravely.

Uh Oh. He only ever intervenes when he feels his plans being threatened. That’s when Carala knew shit was about to hit the fan. But he wouldn’t make her back down, not this time. She was in fight mode. The words sitting on her tongue elicited a prickling sensation upon it, and her chest tingled with anticipation as she was about to let them out.

“Remember the pizza I ordered?”

Silence. _Enjoy the calm before the storm hits,_ she thought to herself. Then: “Well, turned out my soulmate was the delivery guy.”

What followed was beyond good and evil. Their utter shock soon turned into anger, and the anger turned into desperation. Her mother actually began to _cry_ at some point, thick droplets of tears streaming down her cheeks as she muttered something about this being “the end of their family’s prestige”, which made her father even more angry, and (as a side effect) even more scary. But Carla held the promise she gave herself – to not back down this time – and stood her ground. She wasn’t even close to crying as he hit her with several threats (like sending her to a catholic French boarding school or disinheriting her). Instead, she skillfully meandered her way through the fight, countering every one of his threats with razor sharp arguments.

And of course, they weren’t done after that one fight. Even after weeks, her parents were still going through a domestic crisis, and the atmosphere in the Róson’s mansion was as tense as the power circuit Carla and Lu had installed in physics, accidentally causing a short in the school’s left wing – oops. But contrary to like she did after the failed experiment, Carla wasn’t in the mood for laughing whenever fuses were about to blow at home again. So, she disappeared from there whenever she could, hiding away at a place that felt warm to her entirely without traces of life-threatening electricity.

But this didn’t mean there wasn’t a tingling sensation running down Carla’s spine while being at that place from time to time. For her taste, it never lasted long enough.

“What?” she mumbled, following Samuel’s lips as he tried to break the kiss. After a gentle nudge against her shoulder, she eventually let go.

“Do you want to eat something?”

Carla felt her shoulders sack. Seriously? That’s his reason for interrupting their make-out session? _Dinner?_

Normally, she loved when he took care of her. His kind and attentive side was what she grew fond of the most in their short history of dating. It was something she wasn’t used to, and the way he read every wish off her lips made her feel really special (if it weren’t too soon to say this, she even would describe it as _feeling_ _loved_ ); but right now, being pampered wasn’t exactly what she wanted. What she wanted was to…

“Fuck!” Samuel hissed as he placed the plates onto the couch table. “Be careful, might be a bit hot,” he said while sitting down and handing Carla a fork.

“Really? Wouldn’t have guessed,” she smirked while picking up two noodles, from which one directly fell onto the plate again. Samuel elbowed her playfully into the side, then focused on his own meal.

After dinner, Carla gave it another try. She approached him the way she knew he couldn’t resist – batting her lashes and tilting her head. Then, her arms around his neck, teeth clawing into her lower lip – and in no time, Samuel’s lips found hers all on their own. And while his warm tongue against hers felt quite good, Carla thought it would feel even better if his hands sank a little lower instead of just resting on her hips. She was seconds away from grabbing his wrist and outright shoving them down to cup her ass when Samuel pulled away again.

And this time, she wasn’t able to hide her disappointment. But the annoyed groan she let out while leaning against the couch’s backrest was completely ignored by Samuel. Instead, he had the audacity to ask her if she wanted to watch a movie.

“No,” she simply answered, staring at the empty plates in front of her with crossed arms.

“Okay,” Samuel nodded quietly. “Do you wa–?”

“No,” she cut him off nonchalantly. Whatever it was that he would’ve suggested, she knew she didn’t want it. She just wanted _him._ Was that so hard to understand?

“We’re dating for two months now,” she began to elaborate. Samuel picked at the skin of his fingers as he watched her with big eyes. “And every single minute we spent together was great, really. Going out to eat, strolling through the city, that one time we went swimming…I loved doing all this with you. But don’t you think there’s– you know, _more_ to a relationship than just doing all this?”

“More?” A nervous, crooked smile appeared on his face. He quickly hid it by taking a sip of water. Then he placed the glass back onto the table, wiped his mouth and found back into his prior position: tightly pressed into the cushions. He didn’t look comfortable at all. “What do you mean with that?”

Carla decided that further explanation would make him even more awkward. It was easier to just show him. Therefore, she scooted over and slowly made her way into his lap until she was straddling his thighs.

“I mean this,” she whispered into his ear simultaneously to rolling her hips against his. It made Samuel immediately stiffen underneath her. Not the way she intended to, though. He was literally petrified – she didn’t even hear him breathe.

She sat back onto his thighs with an exasperated sigh. To say this didn’t affect her would be a lie. It couldn’t be, or? Has she really hit the jackpot of having an asexual soulmate? Because she wouldn’t be sure how to deal with that, after all.

After an awkward long silence, Carla was the first to speak up. “Can you please tell me what the problem is?” It came out way lower than she intended to. Okay, her pride was definitely injured. “Don’t you…want me?”

“Of course I do!” Samuel said, but even the urging tone in his voice wasn’t enough to convince her. She climbed down from him and went back to staring at the plates, arms crossed and lips pressed together. Samuel nervously shifted beside her. Even without looking at him, Carla knew exactly what kind of face he made at that moment. Nervous and insecure, with a touch of worry. But what for? They’re _soulmates_. She didn’t want him to be nervous around her. What sense did that apparent bond for life have when it wasn’t enough to tie two people together without making them insecure of what the other thinks or feels? Stupid.

“You know what, Samuel?” Carla got up after a moment of silence. Her movement was shaky with utter distraught. “I’m gonna go now. And you can get in touch with me again when you know what you want. Because right now, it doesn’t feel like you actually want to be in a relationship with me, and I sure as hell don’t wanna be _just friends_ with you!”

Okay, that was a little much, maybe. In the end they did make out quite a lot, and friends surely don’t do that. But her nerves laid blank with everything going on at home, and she wanted to know where she and Samuel stood. His behavior was weird, wasn’t it? And she couldn’t put up with another area of her life being unstable.

But her intense words had no other effect than to intimidate him even more. In hindsight, it was probably the way he looked at her completely perplexed that caused Carla to snap seconds later. She wanted nothing more than for him to say anything to contradict what she feared, not have him sit there like a lost puppy. And the quiet “I don’t wanna be just friends with you, Carla” definitely wasn’t enough for that.

“Oh really?” she scoffed. “Then why would you behave like a fucking virgin all the time?!”

The words weren’t fully out of her mouth when realization kicked in.

“I– I’m sorry,” she was back at his side in no time, features softening as she watched his cheeks grow cherry-red. “God, I’m sorry.”

She gave him opportunity to hide his embarrassment by throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly. To be fair, she was just as embarrassed as him. How could she have been so oblivious?

“I really didn’t mean to insult you,” she spoke in a small voice while she leaned back to look at him.

“It’s okay, you couldn’t know,” Samuel chuckled softly.

“But why haven’t you told me? Its nothing to be ashamed of. I literally thought you were an asexual or something.”

“A what?”

The blonde shook her head with a smile and softly captured her boyfriend’s plump lips. “Nothing.”

Carla later realized that this was the best thing to possibly happen to her. There was nothing better than teaching him everything she already knew out of her relationship with her ex-boyfriend, especially when his eyes glowed like a little boy’s who just got free tickets to Wonka’s chocolate factory. She’ll never forget the way he looked at her the first time she got topless in front of him – he’d been completely overwhelmed, not knowing where to look first, and he almost began to drool as she lowly murmured “You can touch them, too, you know.”

But she didn’t only like it for the admiring looks or the amusement they gave her, she liked it because she actually felt wanted, _loved._ Samuel could never get enough of her – in opposite to her parents, whom she thought were happy every time she wasn’t at home to remind them of their family’s downfall with her presence.

\--

Although his girlfriend had a mindblowing ability to calm him down, even her reassuring words or gentle touches weren’t able to do so on that day. They were three months into their relationship now – one month had passed since Carla confronted him about their lack of sex life – and things were going _great_. The days on which they did something other than spent time in his apartment – or his room, more specifically – could be counted on one hand.

Nonetheless, they chose to take it slow (mostly for Samuel’s sake. He’s always been a little closed off when it came to making new experiences. Not that he didn’t want to, but his careful nature combined with some weirdly high expectations tended to make him a little anxious at times). And taking it slow meant they did basically everything despite having sex for real – technically, Samuel was still a virgin. But a more experienced one. And, according to his girlfriend, a fast-learning one. 

“Full already?” Carla eyed her boyfriend’s plate. It wasn’t even half empty.

Samuel nodded, aware that the movement must’ve looked rather curtly and therefore not convincing at all. He stuffed another two forks into his mouth as a kind of distraction maneuver, but then he was really finished. Just one more corn of rice would make his stomach flip.

The feeling unfortunately got even worse when they entered his room after doing the dishes.

Carla immediately stopped in her tracks when he opened the door. “What is all this?” she asked, obviously in awe at the colorful lights glowing from every corner of his room.

“I don’t know…I just wanted to make it special.”

Her features softened like they did a few weeks ago, when he sheepishly told her that he’d always wanted to wait for his soulmate until he had sex the first time. He guesses she found it kind of cute, which he didn’t know how to feel about. Admitting this – in combination with the fact he had no sexual experiences at all – has been rather hard for him. He always thought his lack of sex life might be a turn off for her. She seemed so freaking mature sometimes, and he tended to get intimidated by that. It was obvious she had that figured out by now, though. Samuel could literally sense how she attempted to slow herself down when things got heated. Sometimes, he even felt bad for making her wait so long. Especially when her kisses got rougher and her moans turned into small whimpers because she wanted him so much. Not his hands, or his mouth. She wanted him to fuck her – at least that’s what she murmured into his ear in a moment of hazy lust last week. Samuel nearly lost it at that.

And he was about to lose it again when she lost no time in taking her top and bra off in the illumination of the shimmering fairy lights and headed straight for his belt afterwards. Samuel was kind of thankful she overtook the job of peeling them out of their clothes – his hands were already shaky and a little sweaty – but then again, the speed at which she did made him dizzy.

“Ready?” She gazed down at him with dark eyes a few passionate kisses later, fighting with a gentle smile on her lips. It made Samuel feel a little better that she was struggling, too. Patience wasn’t her strong suit.

“Yeah,” he breathed. And again, he was really glad she took the wheel in this by offering to ride him. Right now, he couldn’t even talk properly, and anything other than sitting against the headboard of his bed would’ve probably overburdened him. His eyes fluttered when she took his cock into her hand to line him up at her entrance, her thighs tensing up as she hovered over him. When she finally let herself down inch by inch, the flutter of his eyes increased until they fell completely shut. Simultaneously to that, Samuel’s mouth fell open at the feel of her around him. Before, he’d been kind of unable to believe that there could be something even more breathtaking than her hot, wet mouth, but this moment definitely proved him wrong.

Yet despite the incredible amount of lust he felt with being inside her up to the stop, he still needed to check on her. Samuel fought his eyes open and found his girlfriend already looking at him. Carla seemed a bit more composed than himself, but not all too much.

“Want me to move?” she asked huskily, though it was rather a plea than a question. Samuel chose to not try himself at talking and grabbed her hips as an answer, the touch alone making her whine. She willingly let him guide her as he explored the change of pressure on his cock when her hips moved to the right or left, up and down, in sensual circles…it felt incredible. For a millisecond, he regretted not having this done sooner, but the thought of living through this with someone else than her instantly caused the regret to vanish. This was no less than perfect. And theoretically, Samuel could’ve gone on like this forever, deeply buried inside of her while watching the way she reacted to the changes in movement, how she bit her lip and grabbed her breasts and fought to stifle her moans; but practically, his body had other plans.

In the end, he lasted for a whole six minutes – he counted that as a success, okay? At least it weren’t _seconds._ (Although Carla very seriously told him beforehand that even if, it wouldn’t be a problem for her. That it was rather normal for guys, that they’d have more than enough time to practice and so on. Really sweet, but honestly? He still would’ve been embarrassed).

Therefore, his first performance was okay, but developable. And so, they _did_ practice, oh yes, they did. After a rather slow start, their sexual encounters grew exponentially – to the point they woke up completely sleep deprived or were late at parties, to the point they had to stop because Carla had a cramp in her butt or Samuel accidentally ripped the shower curtain when they threatened to slip (meaning: no more shower sex for them. Oh, and explaining that to his mother was also fun…). They literally couldn’t keep their hands off each other, until…

Until today. Their seven-month anniversary. (No, they aren’t that kind of kitschy couple who has monthly anniversary-celebrations, yet Samuel always keeps the date in mind).

The lack of Carla’s engagement into their make-out session is what makes him stop kissing her neck. That’s unusual.

“Is everything alright?” he searches her eyes, but she quickly avoids his gaze.

“I guess I’m just tired,” she shrugs, but the deep sigh leaving her mouth tells another story.

“Tired of what?” Samuel props his chin upon his hand, the other one gently caressing her shoulder as they lay in his bed facing each other. He studies her face when she closes her eyes instead of answering, and soon detects how the perfect façade begins to crumble when the notch between her eyebrows gradually grows deeper and a marginal tremble erupts in her oh-so-kissable lips.

He knows better than to force her to talk and hopes patientely hugging her to his chest will calm her down until she’s ready to share what weighs down on her shoulders. He already has a suspicion, though. About ten minutes later, when a tiny “they don’t even hate me” leaves her wet lips, Samuel knows he’s been right.

Her wiggle indicates for him to let go of her, and when Carla’s facing him, she picks up her words from before, composure partly regained. She still avoids his eyes, though. “They don’t even hate me, Samuel. That’s how little I matter to them. They don’t even care if I’m home or not anymore, don’t ask how I’m doing or how things go at school. They barely even greet when we cross paths. And all because I’m being with you. I…just don’t understand.”

Truth is that Samuel doesn’t understand, too. All Carla ever told him about her parents caused him nothing but incomprehension. How did they manage to not care about her enough to make time for her, both now and when she was little? How was anyone able to not want to spend every single minute with the greatest person he ever met in his life? Because he loves everything about her, and everyone who doesn’t is simply being wrong in his opinion. Its an objective fact that she’s the most charming, loveable, sweet person worldwide, period. And this shit just makes him angry.

His distraught energy also seems to transfer onto Carla. He hasn’t even said anything when she begins to talk again, the sad notch between her brows now replaced by a determined crease. “You know what? I’ll confront them about it. It can’t get any worse at this point, and I won’t give up that easily. I won’t let them ignore me or forbid me to invite my boyfriend over. Shall they disinherit me or set me up for adoption – I don’t care. I’m turning eighteen soon, anyway.”

Samuel is a little astounded by her change in demeanor, though he must say he likes it. She’s insane – in the most positive way. Insanely strong, insanely brave. And in case she needs him to back her up, he’s more than willing to fight for her with everything he has.


End file.
